by JJ Argus
I blushed furiously as he knelt before me, undoing my shoes, and removing them, then pulling the material of my dress away. He gathered in the material, folded it, and placed it on a table, then he turned to look at me in an unabashedly admiring way.
“Lovely,” he said.
He went back to the chest, and returned with another pair of padded restraints, fitting these to my ankles. He then tugged me legs apart, to the edge of the circle, and fit the chains attached to the restraints into small clips there.
He looked me up and down but didn't touch.
My eyes flitted about wildly. I was embarrassed, anxious, and yet felt a rising sense of sexual tension, a breathlessness, as he looked at me. My heart was pounding as he bent before me, but again, rather than touching me he pressed a switch at the side of the wooden circle. There was a humming sound, an one of the wooden posts or poles began to slide upward. I stared down at it in shock as it stopped just below my body.
He returned to the chest and returned with a pair of dildos, or so they seemed. I stared, a little aghast, as he fit them over the wooden posts. They slipped on firmly but easily. He squeezed something, some clear liquid onto them from a little squeeze bottle. Then the humming returned as the higher post rose a bit more, then more, pushing up between my buttocks as I squealed and tried to twist away.
Jeremy casually reached for the butt-plug, and tugged it slowly out. He held my thigh in place firmly, then the humming post pressed against my open back passage, and slid slowly up into it. I shuddered with heat and a squirming mental discomfort as Jeremy casually saw to the continuing upward movement of the dildo thing. Only when I squealed at the ache deep inside did the humming stop. The thing up my back passage eased down a bit.
Then the other one began to rise. I moaned and shook my head, but I was now caught like a butterfly, literally impaled, and he had no difficulty guiding the other one deep into my throbbing, moist pussy, with the clip thing still inside me, and still pressing against my clitoris.
He moved back, studying me, and I blushed furiously.
“You have a very beautiful body, Miss Fire,” he said. “I'm sure it gives you much pleasure – as it will give your master.”
He turned and walked back to the door, then adjusted the lights, turning them down, before closing the big door and bolting it. A half minute later I heard the other big door closed and bolted, and I was alone in the silence of the dungeon, naked and impaled, chained, helpless, eyes wide as I looked around me with a sense of disbelief, even astonishment.
The dungeon was lit with the same kind of iron lamps, with the lights now turned low. The room had a sinister look to it now, and I moaned into the gag, pulling experimentally against the restraints, my breath ragged as I waited what was to come next with a sense of nervous excitement.
God! He was crazy! Or at least, well, perverted!
Who built a place like this!?
Of course, with his money I supposed he could simply amuse himself with almost anything he cared to. It wasn't like he had to do any of the work. He'd just think to himself that it would be fun to have a dungeon, and someone else would build one and tell him when it was done.
Yet the room was very, very old, despite the modern lighting and the modern, uhm, devices. I wondered if it had ever been used as a prison before. Those doors were awfully thick. And awfully old looking. I looked at the row of doors. Were they cells? I imagined prisoners kept her centuries ago, perhaps to be tortured most cruelly with pincers and hot irons.
That made me more nervous, though I doubted Sir would go from a gentle strapping to something like that.
I moved my hips a little, gasping, for the posts driven up inside me had no give to them. I was locked in place, and trying to move my body caused my insides to try to move around and against the wooden … uhm, cocks. That was a strange experience, and not altogether pleasant.
I looked around the room anxiously, and waited what was to come.
Chapter Eight
I had no real idea how much time had passed. I thought it was probably passing much more slowly than I imagined. But I was becoming less nervous, for some reason, and more aroused. Well, I did have those big dildo things up inside me! That might have had something to do with it! Then again, the whole scene, this silly dungeon thing, was darkly thrilling. I was virtually certain Sir had no intention of causing me harm. But not completely certain. And that added a dark edge to things.
I lowered my head, staring at the thing driven up into my pussy. The dildo part of it, hollow, had seemed like a full-sized penis. That is, it was the proper length and more than so in thickness for a man's cock. Looking at it, I saw that it had been driven completely up inside me so that my moist pussy lips were now closed around the wood just behind it.
I swallowed as my saliva began to drip softly from the ball gag, down onto my chest, there to trickle slowly down my belly. I tried to look behind me, but couldn't see the one there. I wondered if that too was as high inside me. It seemed probable. So I was deeply impaled, helpless, chained, waiting – waiting my master's attention. Waiting to be tortured!
My clit throbbed and I moaned, my hips bucking a bit, or trying to.
My ankles were starting to ache, for I was drawn up on the balls of my feet. I had rested some of my weight on the chains above my wrists, but not very much.
Then I heard the distant sound of the bars being shot. I jerked my head towards the door, my heart pounding, pulse picking up as I waited the sound of that one being opened. I heard it, and my chest tightened further.
He walked through, and turned the lights up.
I hadn't realized how dim it was, for my eyes squinted now against the bright light as he strolled in.
“Well now, is this not a pretty picture?” he asked rhetorically.
He stood before me, and I blushed heatedly as he looked me up and down.
His hand dropped immediately to my sex, and he traced the line of the wooden post as it emerged from my taut pussy lips. He gripped the clip and tugged it slowly out, and I winced as it left my body. Then I gasped as his fingers rubbed lightly at my swollen clit.
“And how is my little Fire enjoying her visit to the dungeon?” he asked.
I moaned weakly into the gag, and he chuckled. His hands rose up my body, soft, firm hands, warm against my cool skin, sliding up under my breasts to cup and gently squeeze them. His fingers curled in and gripped my nipples, rolling and stroking, then pinching and tugging them as I winced and gasped and moaned into the gag.
“Jeremy says you were flirting with him earlier,” he said. “I'm quite jealous. I shall have to punish you severely for that.”
I wasn't! – I wanted to shout.
Although, I suppose I was, at least a little.
Why would he be jealous, though? I wondered at that. Did Sir feel something for me? That would be nice to know given that we were lovers – of a sort. Or was he just saying that as an excuse to uhm, well, discipline me.
To be honest, though, now that he was there, and not seeming at all crazed, my nervousness was declining and my heat spreading and growing stronger.
He walked across the room, and stepped behind a small portable screen. He had left his blazer upstairs. But from the occasional movements around the edges of the screen I decided he was getting undressed, and wondered why he was hiding to do it. Then he emerged, and I gulped as I saw that he hadn't simply undressed, but changed.
He had removed his soft, slip-on shoes and replaced them with short boots. His wool trousers were gone, replaced with tight leather which laced up the front. He had no shirt, but a leather vest tight across his broad chest. His arms were bare, and well-muscled, and he grinned as he walked across to me, moved behind me, and gripped my hair.
I gasped into the gag as he jerked my head back. I felt a hand slide around me, cupping my breast, as his lips traced the side of my neck.
“My slave girl,” he whispered, chewing lightly along the nape of my neck.
&
nbsp; He chewed and sucked and kissed slowly along the side of my neck as his hand descended to rub artfully at my aching clit. I moaned helplessly, hips seeking to jerk and buck, but restrained by the wooden cocks inside me.
“How shall I punish you, slave girl?” he whispered. “Shall I whip you?”
I shook my head anxiously and he chuckled softly.
“We shall see, slave girl.”
“I'm not your slave girl!” I tried to say around the gag.
He released my hair and moved around in front of me, his eyes flicking up and down. Then he sank slowly down to stare at my impaled sex. His fingers again traced the line of my entrance in front, then he leaned in and kissed my swollen clit. I flinched, then gasped as his lips spread apart, and he began to suck gently against my sensitive flesh.
God! God! God! – I thought half dazed, staring down, then up and around, with another sense of disbelief.
My hips began to grind helplessly against him as the heat and sexual tension rose, and it was like stirring my insides on those two immoveable posts as he started to alternately lick and suck at my clit. His hands stroked my hips, my belly, slid behind to squeeze my buttocks, then rose to fondle my breasts.
I felt a strange insight. Most men, having a 'sex slave' at their disposal, would have simply had her doing all she could to give them pleasure. Sir spent a lot of time working me up to the heights of pleasure instead, and throwing me off. Rather than losing control he seemed to enjoy, to take pleasure in making me lose control.
I let my head roll back, moaning, grinding against him as the pressure of the sexual heat within began to build up to explosive levels. The pressure against my wrists and ankles was ever-present, as was the impaling cocks deep inside me. Meanwhile, his tongue was lapping teasingly at my clit, his lips sucking lightly, caressing, massaging, tormenting me as I sought a heavier touch. But he was in no hurry at all.
He paused as I was about to reach my climax, ignoring my moan of pleasure to walk across to the chest of drawers. He opened the cupboard doors above it, swinging them wide, and my own eyes widened in turn as I saw the array of whips and flogs there.
He took one down and walked back to me, and I shook my head as he gave me a dark look.
“You must be punished for your disloyalty, wench!” he said, moving behind me.
He was playing a role, clearly, but I braced myself, anxiety rocketing up as he drew back his arm.
I screamed into the gag as the flog lashed my back, but the scream was one of anticipation, rather than pain. The thin laces of the flog spread as he swung, and cracked across my back like the light sprinkling of a small rain of stings. Very light stings. In fact, they hardly qualified as pain at all.
I moaned, turning my head again. He drew his powerful arm back and swung the flog, and I squealed as it flew towards me. I cried out as it landed, head thrown back, for my body jerked forward as it in instinctive effort at escape.
But again, the pain was really almost nothing. It was less then when he pinched my nipples.
As my fear drained away, I felt the jarring impact of the reality of what he was doing, felt a wild sense of thrilled excitement as the flog landed a third time.
This was so kinky! It was so dark and wild and thrilling!
I moaned as he continued to flog me, as the laces of the flog cut across my shoulders and back, then dropped lower, slashing across my lower back and buttocks. I won't say there was no pain, but the pain was so light that the throbbing heat pouring through me made it seem almost negligible. My back did begin to warm, though, as blow followed blow, and my skin began to feel more sensitive, to ache more as the fresh blows arrived.
Still, it was nothing compared to the thrill, the arousal, the wild excitement churning through my mind and body.
The laces of the flog began to curl along my ribs now to snap at my breasts. They were more sensitive than my back, and so the ache was sharper there, but against the glowing heat enveloping me, it only roused me further. I felt myself really sinking into the hot, steamy game of being his slave girl, of being his prisoner, of being whipped! My skull was pounding, and my fingers trembled overhead. My ankles ached but I didn't care. I just let more weight down on my wrists, gasping and groaning and jerking as he lashed my body, as the feverish sexual heat turned me into nothing more than a near mindless sexual animal crazed by lust!
I gasped as he jerked back on my hair, forcing my head back, my back to arch.
“Are you my slave?” he purred.
“Yes!” I moaned through the gag.
“Yes, master,” he corrected.
“Yes, master!” I moaned, thinking of how tight and taut my burning nipples were as he forced my back to arch.
He chuckled throatily, then released my hair. I saw Jeremy strolling into the room, and flushed as he examined my glistening, sweating body.
“The Fire seems nicely heated, sir,” he said.
“Doesn't she,” Sir said. “I think we should take advantage of that fire while it lasts.”
“Indeed, sir.”
The wooden things began to slide back down, and I groaned, trembling, as they left me. The two men undid my restraints from the chains holding them, then half carried me over to the leather padded sawhorse and bent me over it. I groaned as they spread my arms and legs, one to either side, and chained them to the opposite legs of the sawhorse. Then slender loops went around my achingly erect nipples, tightening enough to make me cry out as the elastic cords were stretched up and back.
My eyes widened and I cried out in pain as some kind of clip was squeezed tightly around my throbbing clitoris. That hurt! It hurt almost enough to yank me out of the storm of sexual heat and desire gripping me!
But then I felt Sir's cock rubbing against my sex, and it was a delicious sensation, an incredible tactile feel of slick, warm flesh against my own that left me shuddering and gasping as pain and pleasure poured into me. But the pain was fading, dulling, and the wonder of that thick, hard/soft cock stroking up and down against me was making my ankles pull against the restraints as my body sought to thrust itself back against him.
Then I groaned aloud as he penetrated me, as the throbbing, overheated lips of my sex were pushed in and slowly spread wide by his intruding flesh. He pushed deeper, and then deeper still, and I groaned again in dark sexual exultation at being so deeply penetrated, at having his big cock in me to the hilt as he ground his hips against my taut, upturned buttocks.
My head was virtually hanging down, so that I could see his legs behind me, between my own. I was gasping, panting, my hair dangling as the blood rushed to my head. My nipples still stung, as did my clit, but the wild thrill of sensations within was like an uncontrollable flood, and the tiny little stings were like flickering fireflies against a bonfire of heat.
I was spread so wide, so open! I should have been humiliated to be positioned like that, bent over, legs so wide, held helpless. But I wasn't. The dark, kinky thrill of it all was making me tremble with excitement and arousal even aside from his cock. And with it inside me it was as if I was complete. He moved within me, his hands on my hips, at first, as he worked himself in and out using long, deep strokes.
The difference between his hard cock and the dildo things which had been up inside me was so glorious I almost came, despite the pain in my clit. His cock was stiff, but soft, flexible, warm, delicious as it stroked in and out. I grunted and moaned, overcome by the tactile pleasure as Sir rode me, as his cock thrust into me again and again, jerking my body against the sawhorse.
“Her pussy belongs to me, Jeremy, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind engaging you from the other direction,” he said above and behind me.
I groaned as I felt him grip my hair. I felt the pressure against my scalp, then my upside down view was yanked away as my head was lifted up and forward. The ache in my scalp added to the overload of sensations, and the pull also served to lift my upper torso up and back a bit, and pull my nipples against my clit, and vice versa. Pain rose.
But he was deep inside me, his hips flush against my buttocks, and the heat billowed up and enveloped me as fingers worked the straps loose, then pulled the gag from my mouth. I gasped helplessly, gulping in air, moaning as Jeremy stepped before me. I stared at his thick cock as Sir began to thrust again, and my mouth dropped open almost without thought.
He slid into my mouth, and I found a focus. I sucked excitedly, grunting and moaning as Sir rode me from behind. A new surge of wild, dark thrilling heat swept through me, and I gave myself to the heat, relaxing my throat as Jeremy pushed forward, and his cock slid down my throat.
Oh! My! God!
Was it really possible this was happening? To me!? Was this me involved in this wild, kinky sexual scene!? For it was so much NOT like me! And yet I reveled in it! I gave myself to it as if I really were his sex slave! My mind bathed in the wild heat of that thought as the two men drove their cocks into me from either direction, as my nipples burned and jerked and pulled and tugged against my clit, and the sharp, stinging heat crackled through my body amid the tumult of sensation.
The orgasm screamed through my system, and I thrashed wildly against the restraints holding me spreadeagled. My own scream of pleasure died in my muffled throat, with Jeremy's groin pressed against my lips and his stiff erection blocking my air. I gurgled dazedly around him, my eyes glazed over as I shuddered and trembled to spasm after spasm of wild, exultant release.
The orgasm seemed to go on and on and on as they continued to thrust into me, as Sir continued to tug on my hair, as the clips continued to tug on my nipples and clit. It was a storm of sensation and pleasure that I wished to never end.
* * *
And afterward. I don't remember much. I mean, it seems blurry now. I was so dazed by the intensity of that crescendo of sensation that I was barely conscious. I assume they both had their release inside me. I doubt they'd have stopped otherwise. The chains were removed from the restraints they had placed about my ankles and wrists, and I was moved, carried, mostly, back to that wooden circle.